“I know, I just … thought I should say thank you.”
She shook her head. “I could have done better. I should have caught you and lowered you to the ground beside the canal. You could have gotten away. But it was difficult to tell how high you were when I caught you, and I didn’t want to drop you if it was too high, and to be honest, there wasn’t really much time to think things through—”
“Ridley,” he interrupted. “I’m happy to be alive. Seriously. Very happy. That’s why I’m thanking you.”
She met his eyes again. “Okay. You’re … welcome. I guess.”
“You obviously have no AI2,” he said. “How do you fool the scanner drones?”
Ridley remained silent. Archer might know her biggest secret, but that didn’t mean he needed to know any of her other secrets. And it wasn’t like he’d been particularly forthcoming about all the things he seemed to be keeping from her.
“You obviously carry your AI2—and AI1 as well, I’m guessing—somewhere on you at all times. Since you can’t have them embedded beneath your skin, but you need them in order to pass safely beneath any scanner. Or … do you even need the AI1? The protection amulet? Or does having your own magic mean your body is protected from magical interference?”
Ridley’s heart pounded, sending fresh waves of pain throbbing through her head. How the hell did Archer know these things?
“I mean, I’m just guessing,” he added. “Magic is inside you, and magic and arxium don’t play well together, so I assume you can’t have it underneath your skin. Therefore no AI1 and no AI2.” He paused. “Or am I wrong?”
“You’re wrong,” she answered, far too quickly, and she could tell from Archer’s smug smile that he knew she was lying.
“Is it the chain you always wear around your neck?”
Dammit. Here she was thinking he hadn’t paid her any attention since her friendship with Lilah ended, but if he’d noticed she always wore the same chain, then he clearly hadn’t been as oblivious as she assumed during his time at Wallace Academy.
“So your amulets are on the necklace,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “That’s dangerous. What if the chain breaks and falls off without you realizing? You won’t last a day in this city without a scanner drone flying over and finding out you have no implants.”
“Good thing I have backups then,” Ridley muttered.
“Backups?” Archer frowned. “But you can’t get backup amulets. They’re each registered to a specific person. One AI1 and one AI2.”
She smirked. Finally, something he didn’t know. “Well,” she said with a shrug. “I guess I’m screwed then.” Archer was right, of course. She couldn’t legally have copies made of her arxium amulets. But that hadn’t stopped her from getting duplicates made illegally two years ago. Ezra had found someone to do it, no questions asked. Then Ridley had used Dad’s tools to bend each one into a small cylinder shape, exactly as he’d done for her original AI1 and AI2. She wore them now on a short chain around her right ankle.
Archer shook his head. “You’re not screwed. Clearly you’ve made sure of that.”
Ridley inhaled slowly, folded her arms across her chest, and closed her eyes yet again. “In case you haven’t gathered, I’d prefer not to talk about anything to do with the freakish fact that magic exists inside me.”
Archer, however, continued undeterred. “So that’s how you got to the top of Aura Tower and into our apartment undetected. You used magic. That’s why there was no sign of forced entry. That’s why the beams didn’t detect you. Your magic disabled them somehow. And here I was thinking you were an expert burglar.”
“I am an expert burglar,” Ridley said without bothering to open her eyes. “One can’t disarm a complicated alarm system using magic without knowing exactly what to do with one’s magic.”
“How’d you get into the apartment though? You obviously knew about the arxium inside the front door, which is why you didn’t attempt coming in that way.”
“Yes.”
“So how then?”
She knew she shouldn’t answer him, but she couldn’t help herself. She cracked one eye open. “Your front door might be made of arxium, but your floor isn’t.”
“You—” Archer blinked. “You got in through the floor?”
She smiled. “Perhaps I’ll show you some time.”
“The floor,” he repeated. “You seriously came in through the floor?”
“The people who live below you don’t have an arxium front door. They’re obviously not as concerned about someone breaking in with magic as your family is. It was easy to get into their apartment.”
Archer cocked his head to the side. “How long, exactly, have you been doing this?”
Ridley’s eyelids remained half open, but she decided not to answer.
“You seem quite experienced,” he continued. “Is stealing something you excel at, the way you’ve always excelled at school?”
She bit her lip, still holding her words back. Archer didn’t need to know anything more about her than he’d already guessed.
“It must have been hard, after the Cataclysm,” he said quietly, “with your father losing everything. I guess I can understand why it might have felt like the easy option to steal in order to get by.”
Ridley bit down harder on her lip. Don’t respond, she reminded herself. Let him think whatever he wants to think.
“I guess I’m just surprised,” Archer continued. “It’s not as though I knew you that well when you were friends with Lilah, but you always seemed to have a strong sense of right and wrong. It seemed like you had morals—”
“I have morals,” Ridley hissed between her teeth, her eyes flashing open.
“You take things that don’t belong to you and sell them. That doesn’t sound like—”
“You want to talk about right and wrong?” She pushed herself away from the wall and stood, ignoring the throb at her temples. “I’m not stealing for me. I’m trying to correct the wrongs of the past. I’m trying to balance the scales.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Do you know what really happened after the Cataclysm?”
“Of course I know what happened,” he retorted as he rose to his feet.
“You don’t have a clue, Archer! You wouldn’t because your family has always had plenty, and after the Cataclysm, your wealth only grew bigger. Being the owner of more arxium mines than anyone else in the world paid off big time for Alastair Davenport.”
“Ridley—”
“Anyone whose livelihood had anything to do with magic ended up with nothing. And what did everyone else do? People like you and your family? Did you help the rest of us? No! You looked down your noses at us. You claimed you’d always believed magic couldn’t be trusted and would be the downfall of anyone foolish enough to use it. That we were essentially all getting what we deserved. Then you climbed over the rest of us and used the new laws to further build your wealth while—”
“Oh, please, it was not like that. Systems were put in place to help with housing and job placement and—”
“And you think those systems actually worked? Do you think there was ever enough funding for those kinds of things? Seriously, Archer, how naive are you? Those systems could only afford to help a fraction of the people affected by the Cataclysm, and it didn’t help when influential people publicly argued that our limited government funds shouldn’t be going to pay for the lifestyles of those who should have known better than to get mixed up with magic. Instead, all resources should go toward restoring our broken world. That’s what people like your father said.”
“Well we needed protection!” Archer argued. “The wall needed to be built, and we needed to get more panels into the air above the city, otherwise none of us would have survived those early years after the Cataclysm.”
“Yeah, and in the meantime, people ended up selling their homes and possessions so they could afford to eat. So they could afford medical care. And when that money dried up, they got kicked out of
their crappy roach-infested rental apartments and ended up on the streets.”
“There have always been people on the streets, Ridley. It didn’t bother you when you were living in Aura Tower, did it?”
“I was eight, Archer. I didn’t know about those people until I was living in a community surrounded by them. So yeah, I started stealing. And I know it isn’t right, but I sleep just fine knowing that my crimes have helped hundreds of people. They’ve kept children away from starvation, or given people just enough to get by on rent for another few months, or provided decent clothing for someone lucky enough to get that one important job interview that could change everything. And do my actions affect the people I steal from? Hardly. Their annoyance doesn’t come anywhere near being a life-or-death situation.”
Archer shook his head. “There are ways to help people without stealing.”
“Not for someone like me. At least, not yet. Sure, I can tutor underprivileged kids who don’t go to fancy schools, but how much does that really help if some of them don’t get dinner when they go home?”
A long moment of silence passed before Archer asked, “So you had zero moral debate when it came to stealing from us? My family. The girl who used to be your best friend. The apartment you used to spend hours hanging out in.”
Ridley squared her shoulders and didn’t blink as she stared through the dim light directly into Archer’s eyes. “No moral problem whatsoever. Have you forgotten about the stigma that arose after the Cataclysm? The stigma of having once been a magicist? Your father was one of the primary forces behind creating that stigma. He made it impossible for people like my dad to land any kind of respectable job. So no, I didn’t hesitate when someone asked me to steal from your family.”
Archer was quiet again. Then he said, “From what I’m hearing, this is more about bitterness and revenge than about justice.”
“You can choose to hear whatever you want, Archer. Doesn’t change my motives.”
“And this has nothing to do with Lilah either?”
“Lilah? Why would this have anything to do with her?”
“Your best friend stopped talking to you after the Cataclysm. She didn’t want to be around you anymore. The rest of your circle of friends did whatever she told them to. So you worked your ass off to get into Wallace Academy where you knew all your old friends were going so you could be with them again. But they continued to shun you once you got there. And now you want to tell me that robbing the very people who turned their backs on you is about social justice and has nothing to do with getting back at them for hurting you?”
Ridley stepped closer, hardly able to believe that Archer would dare venture into this specific area of their past. Her hands shook, and her voice was dangerously low when she said, “And do you really want to tell me that Lilah came up with those ideas all on her own? Do you think I don’t know that you were the one who put them in her head to start with?”
Archer’s confident expression faltered. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie. This week wasn’t the first time I broke into your home. The first time I did it was years ago, when Aura Tower management wouldn’t let me up to visit Lilah because when they called your apartment to check whether you were expecting me, someone answered and said they had no idea who I was. So I snuck into one of the elevators and went all the way up to the top. I didn’t need magic to get into your home; the front door wasn’t even locked when you guys were there. So I let myself in, and I overheard you and Lilah talking.” She let out a snort of disgust. “You’re exactly like your father, not wanting to taint yourself by associating with anyone who fell from grace after the Cataclysm. Lilah didn’t care who had once used magic, but you made her care.”
“Ridley …” Archer trailed off, his gaze moving back and forth across her face. He bit his lip, then said, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She was normally so composed. On any other day, she might have smiled her sweet smile and told him she had no idea what he was talking about. But she was tired and headachy and she’d just saved Archer’s stupid, selfish life, and now he was bringing all this up? Questioning her motives and suggesting that this was all about revenge? How dare he!
Her hands flew up and she shoved him. So hard he stumbled backward. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. That means nothing to me. It changes nothing.”
“I know, but … Ridley, if the Cataclysm happened now, I would never say those things to Lilah. I wish I could take back—”
“Shut up.” She spun and strode away from him. She banged one fist on the door and peered through the small glass pane. “Hey! Let us out of here!”
“I know the past should stay in the past,” Archer continued. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you all over again. I was just—” He cut himself off, letting out a groan of frustration. “I don’t know, I was just trying to get you to see the real reason you’re so happy to steal from the type of people who used to be your friends. I just wanted you to see that it’s wrong. You said you want to right the scales, but this isn’t the way to do it. You don’t want to be this person. You’re better than this.”
Slowly, she turned to face him. “You know what? You’re right. You, Archer Davenport, really have changed.” She heaved a sigh and pasted on her most fake smile. “You’ve turned into a gigantic hypocritical slime-weasel.”
“Ridley—”
“No, seriously.” Her smile vanished. “Where the hell do you get off telling me that what I do is wrong? What about all the things you’ve ever done wrong? Vandalizing school property, setting that fire at one of the Wallace dinners and getting people injured, squandering your parents’ money on parties. Not to mention the appalling way you treated the string of girls always clamoring for your attention. Oh yes, and let’s not forget about you turning Lilah against me. Then you leave the city for a while and when you come back, you’re all high and mighty, wanting to tell other people about right and wrong?”
He lowered his head into his hands. After several beats of silence, he looked up. “Trust me, I am all too aware of the many, many times I’ve screwed up. I have to live with myself knowing all the things I’ve done, which is why I’m telling you to stop before you end up like me. Before you end up doing something worse than just stealing.”
“I’m not going to do anything worse than—”
“I ruined your life after the Cataclysm,” he shouted, “and now I’m trying to keep you from ruining it further!”
She stared at him. With his hands shaking at his sides, his breathing shallow, and his dark eyes pleading with her, she wondered if she was finally seeing the real Archer, or if this was all part of his act. “What were you really doing this past year?” she asked quietly. “Tell me the truth, and maybe I’ll believe that you actually care enough about my future to want to keep me from ruining it.”
He let out a long sigh, but his eyes never left hers. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
She shook her head and turned back to stare out of the tiny window again. “You know why else I don’t believe anything you say, Archer? Because you haven’t said a word about the stolen figurine that you were apparently so desperate to find that you were willing to hand me over to the police—thereby ruining my life forever—if I didn’t help you. If it’s so important, then why aren’t you trying to beat down the door to get someone to let us out?”
“I would,” he answered quietly, “if I thought it would make any difference. But Christa will come as soon as she finds out I’m here, and no amount of yelling will make that happen any faster. And just so you know, I was never going to tell the cops about you. That was just—”
“Hey.” Ridley stepped away from the door as a figure came into her line of sight on the other side. “Someone’s here.”
She heard a key slide into a lock. The lock turned. The door swung open, and on the other side was a woman whose waist-length brown hair was streaked with gray. “Archer,” she said. “You should have told me you were coming
.”
20
“Christa,” Archer said, moving to stand beside Ridley. “How was I supposed to tell you? You said it wasn’t safe to call.”
She placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “True. I did tell you that.”
“I thought it was fine to just show up and ask for you. Instead your guys attacked us and tossed me off a balcony. I came this close—” he held his thumb and forefinger a fraction apart “—to cracking my skull open beside the canal.”
“They don’t know you’re on our side. You’ve only been here once, and someone else was on duty then.”
“I knew the pass code.”
“You’re also a Davenport.” Christa gave him a pointed look. “Son of one of the most vocal members of the anti-magic movement straight after the Cataclysm.”
Archer gritted his teeth. “I’m not my father.”
“I know that. But they don’t.” She turned her gaze to Ridley then, examining her with one brief, bright green glance before focusing on Archer again. “I heard it was quite an impressive display of magic that saved you.”
“It was. Quite a surprise, actually. I had no idea she had it in her.”
Ridley glared at him. Nice pun, idiot, she thought.
Christa inclined her head toward Ridley, but her eyes remained on Archer. “Is she …”
“No. She isn’t.”
“I’m not what?” Ridley asked.
“Not trained,” he said, speaking over whatever Christa was about to say. “But clearly she’s taught herself a lot. Look, Christa, we’re trying to find someone. A guy named Ezra. He’s …” Archer turned to Ridley. “What does he look like?”
“Short, tanned, dark hair?” Christa asked before Ridley could say anything. “He’s the only Ezra I know.”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Ridley said. “Does he live down here?”
“Yes. He’s been with us for years.”
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